Kindred Judgement
by Jocelyn Ralph
Summary: The Dragonborn gets more than she bargained for when she accepts Harkon's offer and becomes a vampire. Harkon/Dragonborn, implied Serana/Dragonborn. M rating for sexual situations and implied rape and torture. It's not too bad, but just to be on the safe side ;]
1. Chapter 1

Castle Volkihar was an oppressive and intimidating structure. The ancient stones held together in an almost supernatural way, even though they looked like they were falling apart from decay. The skies above were perpetually full of clouds, snow falling intermittently and coating the ground with a thin white blanket.

Farrah stood on a balcony overlooking the sea; something she had always found beautiful in the past, here looked as dead as the rest of this cold place. Chunks of ice floated, sloshing against the stones that made up the foundation of the castle. The bitter wind nipped at her dark skin, but she didn't shiver. The cold didn't bother her anymore, not like it used to; not since she had accepted this gift. It was a decision she was coming to regret.

The door creaked behind her, and she grimaced as the intruder on her solitude approached. A cold hand rested possessively on the nape of her neck, giving her a gentle but firm squeeze. Farrah bit her tongue to keep the angry words forming in her mind from coming out her mouth. Instead, she turned to face her lord.

"Come," he commanded. The word itself was common and impotent, and yet from his lips, she knew she could not disobey. She defied him once - she had learned the grave mistake that had been.

His hand wandered down her back in a caressing motion, and settled over her lower back. She turned to him then, her face blank, and allowed him to lead her back inside the castle.


	2. Chapter 2

_~Six months earlier~_

The interior of Castle Volkihar was dank, dark, and altogether dreary. It smelled of blood – old and dried blood, fresh blood – and the decaying smell that human corpses made. Though the candelabras were lit, it was dim, adding to the macabre atmosphere surrounding them.

Farrah stood behind her companion, listening and using every ounce of willpower she had to keep her face stoic, refusing to let the sneer itching to show itself take over her swarthy features. She glanced from Serana to her father, the man currently addressing them. He was clearly more excited by the Elder Scroll than by his daughter, whom he hadn't seen in Divines-knew-how-long. She ground her teeth, chagrined on Serana's behalf.

She honestly did not care one way or the other about vampires. She had joined the Dawnguard, not out of any hate for the 'monsters', but to keep herself busy now that she'd defeated Alduin.

The man turned to her then, and Farrah was forced to make eye contact with the vampire. "For my daughter's safe return, you have my gratitude," he said, almost sounding sincere. Farrah felt her eye twitch at the honeyed tone of his voice. It was almost hypnotic, but Farrah remained dubious. He offered her a half-smile, something his handsome face was undoubtedly unused to forming. "Tell me, what is your name?" He studied her much like she'd seen Skyrim's sabre cats studying elks. The look in his eyes was certainly predatory – but there was something else beneath the bloodlust, a glint that made her stomach twinge.

She swallowed her discomfort in favor of being cordial. "I'm Farrah. Who are you?"

"I am Harkon, lord of this court." There was a grandness to the statement even in the mildness of his inflection. She quirked a brow, and stole a quick glance back at Serana, then returned her gaze to Harkon. "By now, my daughter will have told you what we are," he stated, though he sought confirmation from Farrah.

"You're vampires," she nodded, folding her arms across her chest.

His face twisted into a full grin. "Not just vampires," he amended. "We are among the oldest and most powerful vampires in Skyrim." He turned grandly and gestured to the surrounding area. "For centuries we lived here, far from the cares of the world." He turned back to Farrah, and glanced at Serana with a look that held little fondness and much mistrust. "All that changed when my wife betrayed me and stole away that which I valued most."

Farrah ground her teeth. He meant her to think he was speaking of his daughter, but Farrah knew better; she saw his eyes slip momentarily from his daughter to the Elder Scroll still strapped to her back, and then back to Serana's face. Farrah drew in a breath. "Do I get a reward for finding your daughter?" she asked. Since she had apparently done him a favor, she might as well get something out of it, too.

His eyes glinted darkly at her mercenary question. "I was about to suggest that very thing. Yes, you most certainly deserve a reward." Something in his demeanor changed subtly.

Farrah eyed him warily as he spoke and took a step toward her.

"There is but one gift I can give that is equal in value to the Elder Scroll and my daughter," the spellbinding quality in his voice seemed magnified, somehow, and Farrah felt the animosity churning in her chest beginning to dissipate. Her gaze became less guarded and more curious. "I offer you my blood. Take it, and you will walk as a lion among sheep." Harkon stood beside her now, his eyes intense upon her. His words had an enticing quality to them, and Farrah could not shake the feeling of temptation that was creeping through her. Farrah quirked a brow. The room seemed to expand, and her awareness to shrink until all she could discern was Harkon's face. "Men will tremble at your approach, and you will never fear death again."

Farrah blinked, a seemingly distant part of her mind screaming at her. She shook her head, trying to clear it. "And if I refuse your gift?" she asked hesitantly, the foremost part of her mind caught up in the allure of what he offered, and yet still her caution won out.

He answered honestly, a sneer detectable in his voice. "Then you will be prey, like all mortals." The predatory gleam returned for a moment to his eyes. "I will spare you life this once, but you will be banished from this hall." Harkon stepped back from her, a slight frown wrinkling his brow at her continued hesitation. "Perhaps you still need convincing? Behold the power that I offer!"

Farrah watched with a mixture of horror and wonder as a red glow surrounded Harkon. The sound of flesh tearing grate in her ears as a pair of bony wings sprouted from his back. In the following second, his appearance was completely changed, and before her stood a creature she had never before seen.

Cold, hungry eyes bore into her. "Now, make your choice," he demanded.

Before she could think better of it, the words were already out of her mouth and she could not take them back. "I will accept your gift and become a vampire," she said quickly, the word tumbling forth in too eager a tone.

Harkon once again moved close to her. "Be still," he directed her, and Farrah felt compelled to obey, though her mind screamed for her to run. In a swift movement, his arms took her by the shoulders while his wings wrapped around her torso, and a searing pain tore into her neck as he bit her, and the world spun into a red haze.


	3. Chapter 3

Farrah had grown accustomed the grisly life led at Castle Volkihar. She had gotten to know some of her fellow vampires, and done a few odd jobs for them. For the most part, she was beginning to like it here, though she believed that castle could do with less morbidity, even if the occupants were vampires.

Farrah stood in the Lord Harkon's study, trying to swallowed bile that had risen to her throat, disturbed by the words just spoken by him. He watched her closely, gauging her reaction with a piercing stare. She turned away, willing herself to be calm. The trembling in her limbs stilled, and the loathing she felt settled into a cold disinterest. She turned back to him, her eyes meeting his. "No," she responded flatly.

His lips twitched into a smirk, as though he'd expected this reaction. There was no mirth in his manner, though; her answer and tenacity greatly displeased him. "As I thought," he said. "But no matter." He snapped his fingers and two thralls appeared behind her, grabbing her by the arms.

"Harkon, what -" she started as she tried to loose the thralls' grip on her. Harkon interrupted her by grabbing her chin with his hand.

"_Lord_ Harkon," he corrected her crossly.

Anger bubbled up within her. He still believed he was above her, that all his years mattered more than the dragon soul that she possessed within herself. She took advantage of his proximity and spit upon his face.

"_My lord,_" she mocked.

Harkon hissed, his face twisting into a snarl. "Take her to the tower," he sharply ordered the thralls, wiping her spittle from his cheek in disgust.

Farrah struggled against them, slowing their progress and nearly breaking their hold.

"Knock her unconscious if you must!" he said impatiently.

Farrah's vision went black.


	4. Chapter 4

On the edge of the eerie island upon which Castle Volkihar was situated sat a lonely tower, nearly crumbling from weathering and disuse. If anyone had been standing nearby this day, they might have heard a moan from the top of the tower; but no one heard, for no one was near.

A cursed pounding within her head would not allow Farrah to remain unconscious any longer. She slowly opened her eyes, her arms aching, her head in shambles. The sky was grey and overcast – had she ever seen it otherwise here? It was dark, with just a hint of light on the horizon; she didn't know if it was sunrise or sunset, but hoped it was the latter. She sat up and tried to move into a standing position, but was impeded by a pain in both her wrists. She was bound to the stone of the tower upon which she realized she had been brought. Worse yet, she was naked. With that discovery, she fervently prayed that it was sunset.

A few hours proved her horribly wrong. . .


	5. Chapter 5

_~Three months later~_

The tower outside of Castle Volkihar was a place of pain and unending agony. There was no roof protecting the top, and though the sky was almost always covered by clouds, the sun's rays beat down relentlessly while it took its turn about the heavens. It was the perfect torment.

Silent footsteps brought the lord of the castle up the tower's flights of stairs. Without looking up from her position, Farrah knew Harkon was standing half a dozen feet from her, regarding her with keen interest. She had lost track of how long she had been shackled atop the tower; agony couple with imprisonment had a way of making the passing of time irrelevant.

Farrah knew that Harkon had hoped her will would be broken by now. In truth, she did not know how much longer she could last like this; but anything was better than the alternative. Still, she thought could have her fun with him while he was here. As he approached, Farrah muttered to herself, letting her black hair drape over her prostrate form, hiding her face. "Clever butter, fluttering, flying , sighing sighs. . ." she mumbled frantically. Then she laughed, and was surprised that, even after all this time and all her suffering, it had a clear ring behind it, the barely-bridled power of the Voice which she wielded. She hoped it wouldn't give her away quite yet.

He called to her, clearly pleased with her apparent state of mind.

Farrah quieted her muttering, and twitched her head around. She lifted her face, her hair parting to reveal her starved and sunken features. The starvation had marred her physical beauty, making her almost unrecognizable, but that was the least of her worries. To make her pretense convincing, she snarled, a feral fire burning beneath her eyes. He watched, amused, as she struggled in vain against her binds in an effort to reach him. That failing, she sucked in her breath. Now came the fun part: with a thundering energy, she Shouted.

"_**Fus Ro Da!"**_

The blast hit Harkon before he realized it was coming, and knocked him off the roof of the tower. Farrah cackled, the sound carried by the wind down to Harkon where he scrambled to a standing position. He moved with supernatural speed back up the tower, knelt before her and grabbed her throat, squeezing it tight. She made a choking sound and laughed again.

"_Never_ do that again," he hissed.

Farrah merely grinned back at him. He squeezed tighter, frustration erupting within him.

"I _will_ break you," he said. "I _will_ have you."

"Never," she wheezed.

His eyes narrowed, realizing her madness had been a ruse. Three months she had been chained here, starving and exposed, and still her mind was her own; her will was strong. He growled, his body tense with impatience. He was silent, and Farrah knew he was thinking, considering his next move. He suddenly turned to her, the look in his eyes cold and calculating.

Farrah felt a twinge of fear at the confidence in his stance, but revealed none of it to him. She refused to give him any hint to how close she really was to her breaking point. She would rather die than give in.

"Perhaps you would prefer that Serana were up here, instead of you. . ." he mused, releasing his grip on her throat. Anger lit in her eyes and pounded in her head, the reaction Harkon had been hoping for.

Farrah choked, sucking in air. "You wouldn't. . ." she rasped.

He leaned his face down toward her, meeting her weary eyes with a hard stare. "I would."

"She's your daughter!" the Dragonborn hissed, tugging on the chains that held her arms in an attempt to lunge at him again.

"Yes, she is," he agreed mildly.

Her jaw clenched in fury; she knew better than most that family meant nearly nothing in the wake of his own ambitions and desires; and Harkon knew that in their world, there was no one Farrah cared for more than his daughter. Yet even now, with the threat to Serana's well-being looming between them, Farrah continued to hesitate. She did not believe Harkon's threat to be anything more than a bluff.

Sensing her stubbornness, he stood and whistled, and a few moments later a couple of thralls came to answer his call. "Bring me my daughter," he commanded.

The blaze of her anger was quickly replaced by the icy grip of dismay as she began to realize the veracity of his threat. She began to doubt her own certainty.

"You may be able to bear this, Farrah, but how long do you think Serana will last?" he asked Farrah lightly, eyes roaming her starved and sun-blistered form. Prolonged exposure to the sun, coupled with her inability to feed, and thus regenerate her health, had been agonizing. It was a torture the memory of which would haunt the rest of her life. There were wounds around her wrists and ankles where the shackles had rubbed her skin raw. Farrah closed her eyes and clamped her mouth shut, remaining silent, stubbornly refusing to give in, though she could no longer hide the struggle raging within her.

The thralls returned, Serana in tow between them. "Father?" she asked, and he turned. "What's going on?" Her eyes drifted to the chained form behind him. "Who's this?"

Farrah's heart fell; her appearance was so changed that Serana did not recognize her. Perhaps that was just as well – Farrah had no desire for anyone she knew to see her so compromised, least of all Serana.

Harkon smiled at his daughter. "No one of consequence," he assured her, his eyes shifting to the thralls. "Bind her and release the other," he directed them.

The thralls moved to obey, one unshackling Farrah, the other dragging Serana to replace her. "Father, what are you doing?" Serana demanded, glancing from Farrah to her father and back, struggling against the thrall. The thrall smacked her, knocking her out.

Farrah was dragged away and left at Harkon's feet to watch as the two thralls began to bind Serana there. "No, no!" she nearly shouted. The first shackle clicked into place. "Please," her voice had grown suddenly quiet. She reached out toward Serana, feebly trying to crawl toward her. Harkon ignored her, grimly watching as the thralls did as they were commanded. "I'll do it," she whispered. She looked up at him. "I'll do it, I swear. Just, please, don't do anything to her," her voice trembled.

Harkon held up his hand to call a halt to the thralls. He contemplated her promise; he knew her well enough that he did not believe she would break her word, considering the very power her words held as Dragonborn. He nodded, ordering the thralls to unshackle Serana, take her back to the castle, and send others to fetch Farrah.

Back in the castle for the first time in months, Farrah was clothed, fed, and then sent to rest in a coffin until her body regenerated and healed itself. As she settled in the coffin, Farrah drifted to sleep, her dreams filled with haunting visions of the sun.


	6. Chapter 6

_~Present~_

Of all the rooms and deplorable things within Castle Volkihar, Lord Harkon's suite held almost as many horrors on its own. Some were visible to the eye, such as the cage that sat across from Harkon's chair in his study. Others were more abstract, and yet distinctly palpable in the very air, threatening to suffocate her. Farrah sat up slowly, keeping her back to Harkon, who remained reclined, still winding down from climax.

Farrah winced, and was glad he could not see her face and gain the satisfaction of seeing her misery. He made a point to make their couplings violent and painful. The flesh between her legs was tender, her breasts bloody from the attention he had paid to them, and her lips bruised and swollen. Over all, her body throbbed and ached with nearly crippling intensity.

She had sat up with the intention of leaving the bed, but now, with the rush of blood pounding into her head, she fell back against the cushion of pillows, biting her tongue to keep herself from moaning despondently.

She closed her eyes, hoping that if he thought she had fallen asleep, he would leave her alone for a while. He himself seemed to be lethargic, for his breathing began to settle into a calmer rhythm, and he did not bother her. Eventually, she did truly drift to sleep. When she woke, she found she had been dressed and placed in a coffin. She wandered down to where the human-cattle were kept to feed and recover her energy. Then she went to bathe, scrubbing the already scabbing wounds on her body inflicted by her lover.

Farrah let out a slow hiss at the cleansing sting of soap as it made contact with her wounds, but suffered through it, knowing she would feel worlds better when she finished. She got out of the tub, ordering the thralls waiting on her to drain the tub while she dressed herself in a fresh pair of clothes.

Feeling as refreshed as she could, given the circumstances, she made her way to the main hall. Fura saw her entering and approached, motioning her to the side of the room. "Lord Harkon asked to see you once you were awake," a knowing, yet sympathetic look on her face. "You had better go to him. He's in his study."

Farrah sighed. "Thank you, Fura," she mumbled, disappointed that her respite had been cut short, and gingerly made her way to Harkon's study.


	7. Chapter 7

_~Four Months later~_

Within Castle Volkihar was a shrine to the Daedric Prince Molag Bal, who first gifted mortals with vampirism. The room oozed with malevolence. It was darker, even, than the rest the castle, the air thick with the scent of death. Farrah pulled Auriel's Bow from her back as she strode in, followed closely by Serana. She had been waiting for this day.

Harkon was waiting for them, hovering above the ground in vampire lord form. "So, you've returned," he said. Farrah wasn't sure if he was addressing herself, or Serana. She guessed Serana. "Is your. . . pet keeping you entertained?" Farrah caught the bitter jealousy in his tone, and nearly laughed.

Serana stepped forward, hands clenched. "You know why we're here," she said, her tone as calm as it ever was, despite the tension in her body-language.

Harkon grimaced. "Of course I do." He shook his head. "You disappoint me, Serana. You've taken everything I provided for you and thrown it all away for this. . . pathetic half-breed vampire." His voiced dripped with such disdain that Farrah nearly choked, then anger within her boiling.

Serana let out an incredulous laugh. "Provided for me? Are you insane? You've destroyed our family! You've killed other vampires!" she counted on her fingers. "All over some prophecy that we barely understand. No more! I'm done with you. You will not touch her." She stood protectively before Farrah.

"So, I see this dragon has fangs," he observed, seeing his daughter in a new light. "Your voice drips with the venom of your mother's influence. How alike you've become," he mused, sounding disappointed.

Serana shook her head. "No, because unlike her, I'm not afraid of you." She smiled. "Not anymore."

Harkon's inhuman eyes passed over Serana to settle on Farrah's steely gaze. "And you," he finally addressed her, his voice contemplative, as though not sure what to make of her. "It appears I have you to thank for turning my daughter against me. I knew it was only a matter of time before your ambition outgrew your loyalty."

Farrah's dark eyes glittered with hatred. "Loyalty?" she bit out, images from the past flashing through her mind's eye, memories which made her wince. There had been nothing between them that inspired loyalty. "You never intended to let me live."

The look on Harkon's face was cruel and without remorse. "A small price to pay for the betterment of our kind," he said, his voice lacking the conviction his words required. No one in the room truly believed the elder vampire was interested in bettering anyone other than himself.

"You're an insult to our kind," Farrah spat, her dark brow furrowing angrily.

Harkon's grin in this form was unsettling. He let out a little chuckle. "Oh, come now. . ." he drawled. "Spare me your notions of kinship. You've simply used Serana in an attempt to take away what should rightfully be mine."

Farrah hissed, her hand tightening around Auriel's Bow. "I would _never _use Serana like that." _Like you have_, she added in her mind.

Harkon shrugged, presuming the believe he understood the relationship between his daughter and Farrah. He did not. "The vampire is eternal, and with immortality comes the revelation that these bonds never endure. . ." he rationalized in a persuasive tone. "It's fleeting, momentary at best."

Farrah was growing impatient with this banter. It would not save him, and he was only delaying the battle he knew was coming. "Enough of this," she declared decisively.

Harkon regarded her a moment, and knew the time for confrontation had come. "Yes, quite," he agreed. "I'm growing weary of speaking to you and my traitorous daughter," he sent Serana a venomous glance before returning his gaze to Farrah. "I'll give you a single chance to turn over the bow to me. There will not be a second." He held out a pale clawed hand.

Farrah drew an arrow and notched it in the bow. "Never," she said levelly.

Harkon studied, eyes trailing the curves of her body one last time, an almost rueful look in his eyes. Then it was gone. "Very well then, you leave me no choice!"

_Good. _Farrah aimed and let loose the arrow. It flew, a bright streak of white, and struck Harkon in a burst of explosive light.


	8. Chapter 8

The Molag Bal's shrine in Castle Volkihar, filled with the cacophony of battle only moments before, now reverberated with the echo of Harkon's dying words, _"No. . . Serana. . . your own father. . ."_ Farrah panted and bent over, wiping sweat from her brow. Her arms were shaking from the effort of using the bow. She was good with ranged weapons, better than most, but was not accustomed to using them in melee situations.

Harkon had fallen about four yards away, and Serana was already moving toward the pile of ashes that were his remains. Farrah straightened, catching her breath, and walked over to meet the poor girl who was weeping as she bent over the ashes of her father. It had taken Farrah some time to understand Serana's attitude toward her father; the man had used her, and was willing to sacrifice her for his own goals, and Serana had agreed that he needed to be killed. Yet her voice held only sorrow and regret when she had spoken of it, and now she was weeping for the loss of a man who would not have even blinked at either of their deaths.

Farrah rested her hand on Serana's shoulder, offering what comfort she could. At her touch, Serana stood and flung her arms around Farrah's shoulders, holding her tightly. She stepped back, wiping tears from her face and made a sad effort to smile. "Well," she began, sniffling. "Now that's done," she managed.

Farrah offered her friend a grin, unable to do anything but express the glad sense of relief rushing through her shaking limbs. Farrah reached out and took Serana's hand in her own, and Serana;s smile became genuine. Farrah squeezed her hand. "Yes, it is."


End file.
